Words Unsaid
by Bella-mi-amore
Summary: misscommunications at their best


"You are the most insufferable, egotistical person I have ever encountered," The annoyance in her voice was unmistakable, the click of heels echoed as she moved into the foyer of Queen Manor. Crisp wind and fluffy snow followed them into the opulent room, creating beautiful swirls in the sunlight that where it a different day, might have been appreciated.

"Mmmhm, so you've said," with a mumble he set his briefcase down, Oliver moved to take off his gloves and overcoat. "If you're so unhappy here, with me," the slap of leather could be heard against his hand "you know where the door is." His voice hard and steady, "So use it."

A perfectly arched eyebrow raised, "you'd like that wouldn't you, Mr. Queen," one heel kicked off to the side "you would love for me to disappear, leave you to your…" An uncooperative strap caused her to fumble and lean against the side table knocking over a framed picture. Brief mumbling that one might find endearing ended when she snatched the remaining shoe off and with a toss it landed next to the other offending fashion statement, "your, oh so precious life..." She picked up the toppled picture frame, her eyes studied the snapshot longer than necessary and Oliver's body tensed with the action. He knew what picture her gaze was locked on. It was from his younger years. The three musketeers are what his mother had called them and it was one of Moira's favorite childhood memories of her son, thus its placement on the table with the other family pictures. "Why is it that you seem to think, if I wasn't around, you would be able to have this perfect little life with your perfect L…" An arm shot out to stop her.

"You know nothing of what I want." His hand griped her arm.

Her eyes snapped to his with a glare, "You are right in that one, Mr. Queen, I _don't_ know what you want, you _refuse_ to talk with me." She took a step into his stance, her voice snapped, "_You_ have decided that I am not _worthy_to know what is going on in your life, that I am unable to handle who and what you are." With a poke of her left forefinger into his chest, next to where they both know ink marks his skin. "What I do know is we are both in a situation that we didn't want to be in. I didn't ask for this merger and you need to remember that." She watched as his eyes closed and he took a deep even breath. With a shake of her arm in an attempt to loosen his grip, "Just so we are clear of one thing, Mr. Queen, there is nothing you do that I don't know about."

His voice was gruff and low, "Let's get one thing straight," heat radiated off Oliver as his eyes opened and he pulled her further into his hold, free arm now banded behind her. "You may think you know, but in reality, you know nothing." Oliver took a step forward, causing his captive to shuffle backwards, their height difference apparent as her feet scrambled to keep up. "Absolutely nothing about me and what I want." The force of his words projected with them as he backed her up against a far wall with a thump.

Her hand flatten for support over muscles sculpted from hours of hard work; years of training making him into the man in front of her. She was well aware that he could tighten his grip from the loose but firm hold he now had. If she wanted to escape all she really needed to do was duck down and pop herself to the left. He wouldn't really keep her prisoner. Of that she was sure; he would never intentionally put her in danger.

Her eyes moved from the form standing guard past his shoulder to the eyes glaring at her, "Mr. Queen," she ground out, "I suggest you take a step back." The words fell to deaf ears. Oliver ducked his head and the feel of his breath against her neck and a brief graze of day old stubble against her chin caused a reaction she long since forgotten, a moan escaped her as the feel his nose, still cool from their walk in, move slightly against her ear.

"Mr. Queen…" her voice betraying her, "… what are you doing?" she questioned as his hand moved from the grip on her arm to thread into her hair, fisting the long locks, exposing her neck and shoulder to his ministrations.

"I thought you said you knew everything about me," Oliver whispered his voice soft and soothing. Gone was the anger and spite. "That you know everything about me," his nose brushed further down her neck, he felt the shiver and gasp of breath leave her body as his mouth made contact with the exposed juncture of shoulder and neck. He could hear the intake of breath as he bit down. Her body arched up into his, her breasts flattened up into his chest as she pushed up on her toes.

They were too close, she could feel the muscles in his arm around her tighten and loosen in a methodic rhythm and she was sure Oliver didn't realize he was doing it. His thumb slowly rubbing circles under her sweater; warm against her skin. Her breath coming out in puffs, "Please, Oliver," she pleaded her eyes closed the panic in her voice didn't go unnoticed to Oliver.

"What's wrong, Felicity?" He questioned, his mouth ghosted over hers as his hand clenched tighter in her hair. The imposing man stepped even closer one leg settled at the juncture of her spread thighs a subtle press of his hardness into her, shocked blue eyes snapped open, gazes locked. "Oliver… wha… " she questioned.

"What's the matter Mrs. Queen?" Oliver's head cocked to the side with a smile she thought was long gone, "thought you knew everything about me?"


End file.
